


Desiccated

by M4M4



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Beating, Bible verses, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Drugging, F/M, Gang Rape, Misgendering, Multi, Non-Consensual, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Racism, Racism, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religious Themes, Sexism, Torture, i think you all know who it’s from though lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-01-24 01:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18561088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M4M4/pseuds/M4M4
Summary: Mara goes back to camp to try and take care of the situation with the remnants of the Van Der Linde gang. An error of perception causes her to rethink everything.





	1. Faux Pas

**Author's Note:**

> this was written as a vent fic, but it’s not just snowballed into this big, terrible thing. i’m sorry, this is shit. i don’t condone this behavior irl. heed the warnings, yadda yadda  
> (for anyone who's curious about mara. what she looks like, her backstory, etc [its right here](https://imgur.com/a/C4YD7yq) )

This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t have come. Not when he was like this. 

Still, there was somewhat of a compulsion to do this. Not only for herself, but for Arthur. And for John as well. 

After giving Arthur strict instructions to stay put at her remote cabin, she and John had made it back to Beaver Hollow. She was going to put an end to this once and for all.

Tucked into the bushes, she lets John do most of the distracting, chatting up Dutch as she readies her rifle.

Just as she’s about to take aim, someone yanks her right out of the bushes.

One hand is covered over her mouth, the other wielding a knife to her throat.

“Make a sound, and I’ll slit your fucking throat right here,” says an all too familiar voice. The slight accent, the deft, calloused hands. No doubt its Javier. 

Setting down her rifle, Mara nods once, making sure not to cut her throat on his blade.

“Thought you died,” he continues, loosening his grip on her mouth, but still keeping his blade pressed to her skin. “We mourned for you. I mourned for you. Felt bad about leaving you there, but now...” he trails off, his voice now close to her ear, “I wish you drowned in that fucking river the moment you fell off that boat.”

Turning towards him, Mara shot a glare, “I was pushed,” she hisses, her hand coming up to grab at his wrist.

“Oh yeah? By who?” There’s a slight amusement to Javier’s voice. It makes her sick to her stomach. To think a close friend could turn into such a shell of a man...

“Dutch,” was all she could say before he wrapped his hands around her neck, grappling Mara to the ground with a dull thud. 

“You’re lying. I know you are. You’re just trying to turn me against him, huh? Huh?!” He spat, lifting her up before slamming her back onto the ground. Stars clouded Mara’s vision for just a moment, before fading away. 

Groaning softly, she shook her head, her hands coming up to weakly grab at his wrists. “It’s the– the truth. I swear,” she grunts, followed by a wheeze as he pressed his knee into her abdomen. “Ah– he... he said the same damn thing. Thought I was– was trying to turn Arthur n’ John against him–“ a quick slap across her face caught her off guard, no yelp, just the harsh sound of his palm against her cheek. 

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear another word out of you, ” he sneers, then took his hands from her neck. He was far from done. Tucking her arms at her sides, he straddled her torso, then took out a bottle with an unknown substance inside. Uncapping it, he held it up to her lips. 

"Drink."

Mara shook her head, pursing her lips. 

"I said drink, goddammit!" Forcing the bottle past her lips.

Just as the lukewarm liquid hits her mouth, Mara sputters and coughs, coming to the realization that it was extremely bitter. 

Laudanum. 

At least he cared enough to make it less painful for her. Didn’t mean she’d still remember it, though.

After a few moments, Mara felt the pain in her skull subside, but her panic was just the same.

Squirming beneath him, she shot him a glare, gritting her teeth. ”What’re you gonna do to me?” Mara wheeze, her chest heaving under his weight. 

”I’m gonna give you something you should’ve gotten a long time ago, ” grabbing Mara by her collar, he yanked her upwards into a harsh kiss, all teeth and tongue, with no time to process what had happened. He bit at her lip, which in turn caused her to yelp into his mouth, instinctively pulling away. The sharp tang of blood had mixed in with the bitterness of the tincture, almost making her gag at the taste.

Taking out his knife, he holds it close to her chest. Then, one by one, he pops off each button of her shirt.

She goes stiff, yet he still continues through it. Once all the buttons were off, he shoves her top open, revealing a threadbare camisole underneath. 

”What are you doing?” Mara asks, and there’s a quiet tremble to her voice, a contrast to her earlier hissing and snarling. 

He roughly palms her breasts through the thin shirt, pinching and squeezing her nipples, causing her to gasp out and squirm beneath him. 

”I always liked you, you know,” Javier sneers, giving her breast a sharp slap. ”Always wanted to fuck you hard and good like every two dollar whore out there. Make you scream, beg for it, too.”

He doesn't waste any time getting her fully undressed, so he cuts her belt and undershirt off and shoves down her pants along with her drawers, leaving her completely exposed. The laudanum had taken full effect by now, and she feels weak. She wants to sink into the ground, into the dirt and be absorbed into the earth below. 

He tucked himself between her thighs, then pushed his pants down just enough to free his cock. He gave himself a few strokes before forcing his way inside her. She gasps, he groans. Barely having enough time to accommodate him or lubricate herself, he starts to thrust roughly. His hands grasp at the sides of her head, nails digging into her scalp and jaw– Mara grabs at his wrists, trying to pull him off as she whimpered before he forced her into a bruising kiss.

Once he pulls away, he grunts as he fucks her even harder, the sound of his hips slamming against her thighs more prominent than before. ”God, you’re tight, ” he groans. ”Maybe I should’ve had one of the others to get you– ah, ready for me, ” he chuckled. From the cry Mara gives, it’s clear she doesn't want that to happen.

He continues mocking her until he cums, and manages to pull out at the last second to coat her soft stomach in his load. Standing up, he tucks himself back in his pants and pulls out a rope.

Mara can’t bear to stay awake at this point. The pain, the embarrassment, the shock. She couldn’t take it anymore.

As she dozed off, she felt the rough edges of rope being tied around her wrists.


	2. Absent

Consciousness fades in and out.

The sun is beginning to set, and she can feel it on her eyes, reflecting off her dark skin.

A low whistle captures her attention, and she blinks her eyes open.

”Well, hello there, sleeping beauty, ” Dutch drawls with a low chuckle. There’s a cigar hanging from his lip, and as he exhales, a cloud of smoke shrouds him, making him look like some sort of bull, or demon.

”Where’s John?” Mara lifts her head, frantically searching around for him as she leans forward, finding herself tied to a chair.

”Oh, don’t you worry, sweetheart. John’s gonna be just fine, ain’t that right fellas?” he shifts his gaze behind her, and he turns her around.

Her eyes widen at the sight of him. Arms bound around a tree. There are cuts all over his face, the blood already coagulated over them. His lips are split, and his eye is almost swollen shut. She can’t bear to look anymore.

Mara lowers her head and shuts her eyes tight. This is a dream. This isn’t real. She’s going to wake up and be at home. She’s not here anymore.

Suddenly, she feels his hand on her jaw. His rings are cold compared to his warm, clammy hand. With how tight he’s holding her, she’s sure he’s going to leave a few marks.

”I want you to take a real good look at him, ” Dutch says in a level tone, ”see what you did to this man?” he asks, turning toward her for a moment.

”You weakened him. Took him away from me and manipulated him into the goddamned husk you see before you, ” he spat, shaking her jaw. ”They were like sons to me!” Dutch shouted, squeezing her jaw tighter. At this point, she’s sure he’s going to break it. ”You turned them against me. Convinced them that _I_ wasn’t good enough for them. I think it’s about time you got what was coming to you.”

Her lips are pressed into a thin line as she gives him a hard look. ”I thought you already gave that to me after you shoved me off that damn boat.” She finally says, and he releases her jaw with a scoff.

“If I had known you were going to be this troublesome, I would have strangled you and fed you to the pigs a long time ago,” his voice was low, almost growling in her ear. Surprisingly enough, Mara was unfazed. Though she knew he wasn’t bluffing, there wasn’t much he could do to her at this point. She had already made her mark. If he decided to kill her now, it would only add insult to injury on Arthur and John. No doubt the two would be out for blood if he did that. She trusted he was smart enough to know that.

”How would you like for us to fuck your little whore in front of you, John?” Dutch asks though both John and Mara know it's not really a question. He was going to either way. ”I doubt you’d want to take her punishment for betraying us, ” he smiles and reaches down to palm her bruised breast. Mara shirks away at the contact, letting out a sharp hiss at the tenderness.

”Perhaps I’ll get the others to join in, hey fellas?” Dutch calls, glancing over at Bill and Micah, who were watching intently.

”Yeah, I always wanted to fuck a redskin girl. Heard that they’re almost bald down there, like a kid, ” Micah interjects, and suddenly John lets out a low growl, tugging at his binds. Micah sees this and turns toward him, giving a crooked smirk. ”Yeah, you don’t like it when I talk about her like that, huh? Can’t wait to see how she feels around me. Maybe then she’ll feel what a _real_ man is like,” he chuckled heavily, reaching down to adjust himself in his pants. The mere thought of him touching her in any way makes him want to strangle him. Maybe tie a rope around his neck and drag him behind his horse. But he knows better than to speak. Not when she’s practically surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves.

Mara squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to dull the shame she feels as Dutch began to shred up her underwear. Had Javier redressed her when he was finished? The dull ache in her skull and the floating sensation was too much to even notice, or appreciate his slight mercy upon her.

As soon as her drawers are off, she hears a cacophony of hoots and whistling. Her cheeks burn and suddenly, she’s not there anymore.

* * *

”What does this say? Can you read it for me, please?”

“If anyone speaks, they should do so as one who speaks the very words of God. If anyone serves, they should do so with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power forever and ever. Amen. ” Despite her thick accent, Mara manages to read the verse as clear as she could, trying her best not to make a mistake, lest she gets beaten. She stares up at the teacher with doelike eyes, eagerly searching her features, almost nervous for her reaction.

”Ah, very good, my child. You’re learning so quickly. At this point, I’m sure I’ll run out of verses to teach you, ” Sister Anne gave a small chuckle as took the book from her small hands. Closing it, she slid it to the upper right corner of her desk before giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Now you can start on your vocabulary. When you're finished, I'd like for you to join the others for work. You will be setting the table for tonight."

Giving a small nod, she took out a piece of paper along with a dull pencil and began to write. Despite her writing being crabbed and somewhat messy, it's legible at least.

Writing, attentive, zero, ice, young, ago...


	3. Purge

"Can you tell me your name, son?"

They're hesitant, almost scared to do so.

There's no stopping the shivering. Whether it's from the cold or the fact that there's a bunch of bundled up men surrounding them, no one is sure. But after a few moments, they finally mumble the letter 'M'.

"What kind of name is that? You need a real one rather than a damn letter," one of the men shouts, before letting out a wheezing laugh.

"Shut it, Micah. The kid's already scared shitless. He don't need to be embarrassed, too," Arthur shoots a glare at the shorter man. "C'mon then, we'll get you back on your feet. Hey, ladies? You got any room on your wagon?"

Susan and Karen immediately help the shaking person onto the wagon, and once they're sitting on the floor, they immediately pass out

* * *

With a wheezing breath, Arthur manages to clamber over the hill toward Beaver Hollow. It's been a day and a half now, and he's tired of staying inside and doing nothing all day. He wants to help. He can't bear the thought of the two possibly getting murdered by his former family.

When he finally catches a glimpse of her, she's covered in dried blood, bruises and...

_Oh, God._

The sight is enough to make him retch. Seeing his lover defiled, _degraded_ filled him with rage. It's mortifying to catch her in such a vulgar state. He has to turn away, coughing up more blood, phlegm, and a bit of bile at the mere sight.

Just as he's about to advance toward her, he stops once he feels the barrel of a gun jabbed into his back.

"Look who decided to join us, fellas!" Micah announces, pulling back the hammer to his gun. He hears Mara's sharp intake of breath, along with John's low grumble, the both of them visibly shocked by Arthur's arrival. "Sure took you long enough. We were getting tired of messing with John. You two should have known better than to get all soft for some redskin girl. Just had to be chivalrous, huh?"

The commotion is enough to draw the other's attention. Dutch saunters toward the two, grinning crookedly as he extended his arms.

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise? Arthur Morgan swooping in like some knight coming in to save his princess," he sneers, before glancing over at John, "and his little prince."

"Dutch, this ain't you. This ain't you at all," Arthur starts, his voice unsteady. Underneath his heavy coat, he's shaking. He can't help but feel so powerless _,_ and it's more than enough to make him wish that they'd off him right then and there.

 "Arthur, my son," the mere fact he'd use his name and _son_ in the same sentence infuriates him. He never wanted to associate with Dutch again. Not after what he did to Mara on that fucking boat- "do you  _love_ Mara? Do you really care about her?"

"The hell kinda question is that? Of course, I do-"

"Well, if you two really cared about her, you'd rejoin us, let this little whore go. She's of no use to us anyhow." Casting a glance toward Mara, Dutch shook his head with a short scoff. "Look at her. Pathetic, useless. If she was willing to spread her legs for you two, she could have easily done it for all of us." 

By now, Mara's shaking. Arthur could easily trace out a few bruises left on her ribs. Her lip is split, and one of her eyes are swollen, while the other's sclera is a terrifying red. She's trembling, possibly due to her being exposed and out in the open. It's not like her to be scared. She never showed any fear, not since they found her. Arthur's heart aches for her. He wants to reach out and touch her. Hold her and cradle her against his chest. Tell her everything's going to be okay

"Then let her go, you can have us. Just leave her be," John rasps out, his voice unsteady, almost as if he was about to burst out in tears at any second. "She doesn't deserve this."

Bill steps forward, looking over at Dutch for approval.

He nods. 

And they force them both to watch.

* * *

There's a large pail of water splashed over their frame, soaking their clothes and hair right with it.

"I'm not going to let you prance around smelling like one of the horses! You're filthy, you know that?" Susan's vituperation descends onto M faster than they can process. 

"I was going to-"

"No excuses, boy. You get these clothes off and change. John, can you get this man some clothes? If he isn't going to bathe, I'll just have to force him," she steps toward them, tearing the grungy shirt off their thin frame, not even caring about the buttons that were popping off as she tore the garment away from them.

Right as John was about to fetch some of his old clothes, he glances toward M with a stunning realization. 

From the smooth, elegant dip of their collarbones, down to how closely their ~~undershirt~~ chemise clung to their soaked form, the 'secret' was finally revealed.

M wasn't a man.

* * *

"Are you serious?" Arthur raised a brow, tipping the brim of his hat upward as he scrutinized the other man.  

 "I'm serious, he- she was all... soft. She had... you know!" Furrowing his brows, the younger of the two felt his face heat up at the memory of seeing M exposed. 

"You sure you ain't seein' things? Didn't get hit on the head while you were out, did you?"

Just then, there's a distant rustling in the underbrush, and M steps out, clad in a skirt along with a thin, yet oversized camisole. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," they greet, giving a small smile at the two. 

Arthur and John look at each other, with the latter looking as though he might leap. 

"Not at all, M-"

"Please, call me Mara."


	4. Phlegm

Both of John’s eyes were swollen now, and he was missing a tooth. Semen dried upon his lips and face, mixing with the blood from his wounds.

 Mara couldn’t stop shaking, Arthur only closed his eyes, trying his best to drown out the picture and sounds in his mind.

 This wasn’t real. This was a dream. He was going to wake up now in a cold sweat. He’ll be in Mara’s arms. He’ll be holding John. This wasn’t real.

 Wasn’t real.

Wasn’t real.

Wasn’t real.

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur’s eyes narrow at the sight before him.

 Mara and Reverend Swanson have been talking for hours now.

 At first, he came to her, looking very much like a kicked dog. Tail betwixt his legs, pressing his hat to his chest as he murmured an apology on behalf of what the clergy did to her.Her brows furrow at him, and she looks confused for a moment before softening ever so slightly. Much to Arthur’s surprise, she invites him to sit with her.

 He can’t help but watch intently as he sipped at his now warm stew, looking between the two every so often, gauging their reactions.

 There isn’t a hint of rancour in Mara’s features or tone. She’s open, vulnerable. Filled with candour and... Sadness.

 ”I’ve long since accepted the fact that I’m never gonna be whole again. Never gonna be the same after how I've been treated,” her look falters, her eyes having a slightly sombre look to them.

 ”I guess the hardest part is just... Getting used to the pain,” looking up at Swanson, she exhaled slowly, shaking her head. ”For a long time, I was angry. Don’t know why. I suppose I wanted the pain to go away. I wanted answers. Answers for questions that couldn’t be answered, ” she lifted her shoulder slightly. ”Nothing’s ever going to get my innocence back. Nothing’s ever going to replace it. But so long as I accepted that and let myself suffer... I could then allow myself to move on and heal.” Mara sank into her seat, pursing her lips into a small frown.

 “I used to grieve for the little girl I once was. I cried for her. But in my culture, you’re not supposed to cry. You’re not supposed to grieve. If you do, it keeps them from moving on. You have to move on. But, you can talk about the good parts. You can talk about the memories you had of them. All the joy and love.” Her voice is notably softer as the memories she recalled upon held such vast, expansive varieties of feelings within their ethereal allure, making her feel somewhat nostalgic for those simpler times.

 Even with all she had been through, Mara still had a softness to her. It was a rare sight that not too many people could see very often. ”I’m not good yet, but I’m getting better. That’s all I need to survive.”

 The Reverend spoke in a hushed tone, one Arthur could not hear. Mara leaned closer, smiling softly as she wrapped her arms around him, much to the Reverend’s surprise. After a moment, she reaches into her pocket and offers four cigarettes before taking her leave. 

 The entire interaction between them was unprecedented. Mara hadn’t spoke much to the others, only choosing to talk with Hosea, Arthur and John for the most part. She was awkward, dark, and overwhelmingly quirky for someone who had experienced as much as she did. 

 Oddly enough, both Arthur and John had found themselves drawn to her, despite her oddities. However, when she did talk, she was surprisingly eloquent in her choice of words, she understood English fairly well, and had a vast vocabulary that had both the men scratching their heads at what she was saying. She would regularly talk to Hosea about their shared philosophies, morals, things John couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around, much to Arthur’s amusement, though they both knew that their cluelessness was shared, an unspoken agreement between the two men.

 As she passed by Arthur, she reached over and gave him a single pat on the shoulder. It makes him shiver to his very core.

 Mara was no ordinary woman.

 

* * *

 

”Arthur?”

 It was nighttime already. He didn’t realize he had been sitting there for hours now. 

 Surprisingly enough, they untied Mara and John, figuring the two of them were weak enough as it is.

 She was covered in a thin blanket, sitting across from him at the table.

 He didn’t bother looking at her, only hummed in question.

 ”I’m sorry, ” she exhales, and she leans against the table, using her forearms as a pillow.

 ”For?” He didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but he was genuinely curious. Seeing the brief flash of hurt across her face made his stomach sink.

 ”For... For screwing things up. I wasn’t looking in front of me, and Javier managed to get me, and-” she stops herself before she bursts into tears. Taking a deep shuddering breath, Mara continues, ”for dragging you and John into this. I-I should’ve just left them here. We could have dealt with them when you’re better, ” she whispers, her voice barely trembling.

 ”That ain’t happening anytime soon, sweetheart, ” Arthur replies, stifling a wheezing cough, spitting out bloody phlegm. ”I appreciate you going through all the trouble of doin’ this for me.I just... I really don't know what to do now.”

 For a moment they cannot bear to look at one other. Arthur is afraid she might cry. He has no idea what to do, but to beckon her closer. 

 She sits beside him, and for once he cannot feel the warmth that once radiated off her. It was almost if she wasn’t beside him at all. She scrubs at her eyes, almost as if she was trying to erase any trace of her tears. Arthur had never seen or heard Mara cry before, only the occasional yelp or groan in pain when she was hurt, or the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes when she laughed too hard, as well as the deceptive water that ran down her face whenever it rained. 

 She was a strong, stoic woman most times, and Arthur admired that about her. She had the strength and wisdom of someone far older than herself. Briefly, he wondered if that was the very thing that attracted him. The fact that she had managed to pluck every single secret from him was amazing on its own. From losing Eliza and Isaac, to his falling out with Mary, even down to his diagnosis, he was sure she had him wrapped around her finger. He was willing to follow her to the ends of the earth, willing to do anything for her, like an obedient dog of some sort.

 He leans against her now, and she barely reacts, only allows him to rest his cheek against her shoulder.

 ”I’m sorry, too,” Arthur sighs.


	5. Stifled

“You sure you’re alright, hon?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just need some fresh air is all. This damn corset is packing my guts into my ribs,” placing a hand on her stomach, Mara gave Arthur a reassuring smile, craning her neck upward to press a kiss to his jaw. ”Go on without me. See if you can spot any fools to pick from.”

With a hesitant nod, Arthur gently squeezed her shoulder before turning to head inside the main cabin, leaving Mara alone on the deck.

Sighing, she leaned against the iron railing, only straightening herself up when she heard someone emerge from the cabin.

Turning towards the door, her gaze softened when her eyes fell on Dutch.

”Now, what are you doing out here? There’s a party going on, and a lot of foolish men to charm, you know, ” he greeted with a chuckle, plucking the lit cigar from his lips.

”Just trying to get some fresh air. Being in there didn’t sit right with me,” her brows knitted as she stared out, gazing at the distant lights of Blackwater.

”Ah, don’t you worry a hair on your pretty little head, ” Dutch grinned, sliding in beside Mara. ”Soon enough, you’ll feel like you belong. Maybe with the money we get from this, you could buy one of those houses they’re building over there, ” he gestured toward the developing town, turning to Mara with a smirk.

She can’t help but snort at the thought. Mara never thought of herself as a homeowner. And she doubted they’d even let a woman own a plot of land there. Perhaps she and Arthur could eke out a living in Blackwater. Truth be told, Mara wasn’t to fond of the thought of her becoming a wife, let alone a mother. She ran around freely, not answering to those unfortunate enough to cross her path. Even Arthur couldn’t keep her in one place for a week at a time. She always had to be moving, especially on her own.

But, it was tempting. Maybe having the money could wash away some of her worries. She could send some to her family back at home, pay off her bounties, build a house, start a family-

”But you, you’re like a bird of some sort, ” tapping the ash from the tip of his cigar, he took a few puffs from it before exhaling, shrouding himself in smoke, then flicked it into the water. ”Always flyin’ from place to place, never wanting to settle down, ” his gloved hand came down to grip her shoulder, causing her to flinch slightly at the contact.

”Or like a wolf, ” she added, making Dutch raise his brow at her in question. ”Ah, it- it’s nothing. My name, my real name, it means the same thing.” She shook her head with an awkward laugh, causing her curled tendrils of hair brush against the back of his hand.

”Tell me it, ” Dutch spoke. ”Your real name. What was it?”

”Mahihkaniskwew, ” she enunciates the short I’s and A’s, yet Dutch still can’t wrap his head around it. He never heard anything like it before. So unique...

”They named me several months after I was born. My father had visions about wolves while my mother was pregnant with me. His dreams were constantly filled with the sight of wolves, along with a woman. He told me she had long, dark hair, and a beautiful face. He tomd me... That was going to be me when I was older. A Wolf Woman. One who travels alone, never truly staying in one place. Careful, cunning, and yet... Loyal.” She drew her brows together near the end, sighing softly.

”I’d say you fit that description pretty damn well. Suits you, ” Dutch nodded, turning toward Mara, ”a pretty name for a pretty woman.”

His voice was just a touch too soft for her liking. It was far different from the tones he used to speak with others. It was oily, slick. One that could be used to get what he wanted. Yet, she found herself admiring the prim lines of his face, his jet black hair that contrasted well with his rosy skin. He wasn’t an ugly man, but with him towering over her like this, Mara couldn’t help but feel just a tad intimidated by his presence, especially just the two of them.

Even now, with the creeping uneasiness that came with him looming beside her, she wasn’t ready to despise him just yet. He hadn't given her any reason to dislike him yet. It had only been a year and a half since she joined the gang, and he had been nice to her ever since.

His fingers fluttered up her shoulder, barely grazing the strap of her dress, all the way to where a single ringlet of her hair had fallen and began coiling it around his finger, idly gazing at her lips.

”It’s a shame no one’s marrying you yet, ” he started, still staring down at her chapped lips, ”if it weren’t for Molly, I’d have taken you all for myself.”

Pursing her lips at his admission, Mara stepped back, and he let her hair spring back from his finger. ”I’m sorry, Dutch. But I’m with Arthur now.”

Suddenly, she wanted to run back inside. But she knew she couldn’t make a scene. Not when everything was on the line.

”Oh, come now, Mara. He won’t even know. Even Molly would have no idea, ” he advanced towards her, right until she felt her back against the railing.

”Oh Dutch, I-I can’t, I wouldn’t forgive myself, I-”

His mouth slammed against hers, and he shoved his tongue inside. She could taste the cigar on his tongue, and it almost made her gag. In a panic, she bit down on his tongue hard.

She could taste the blood mix in with the smoke and she wrenched herself away from him, spitting out the crimson liquid.

”What in the hell is wrong with you?!” Dutch shouted, spittles of blood splattered across Mara’s face and chest, and she turned herself away from him.

Her ears pounded. She wanted to run, fight, do _something_. God, she wished Arthur was here.

Without a word, Dutch backhanded her, then again, and again, until her face was swollen.

”How dare you try and turn me away. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me all these months. Now when I finally pay you some attention, you have the damn gall to turn me away!” He grabbed at her neck, wrapping his hand around her throat. 

”I told you, I’m with Arthur! And it isn’t like that!” Placing her hand on his chest, she tried to keep him from getting any closer.

”You’re thinking of leaving, aren’t you? And you’re trying to take him with you, ” he growled, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping her throat.

”Nnh, ’m jus’—”

” **EVERYONE! EVACUATE THE BOAT! NOW!** ”

Dozens of people began flooding out from the main cabin.

Without a sign of hesitation, Dutch threw her into the water.

-

The weight of her dress drug her down to the bottom of the river. Mara never felt so cold in her life. Her lungs burned as she tried to gasp for air, only inhaling more water in the process. She could hear the dampened shouts at the surface as everyone escaped from the boat.

Do something, anything! 

She tried freeing herself from the confines of her dress to no avail, her corset was stubbornly tied tight to her frame.

A moment of panic overcomes her, and suddenly she’s flailing and thrashing

Then suddenly, numbness, followed by unconsciousness.


End file.
